


Bad Blood

by marshmallowsweetheart



Category: Sugar Pine 7
Genre: Blood, M/M, Other, Spooky Pine 7, The -bumps fists together- kind of relationship, Werewolf!James, demon!cib, implied Boys, this is about blood so really just don't if you aren't into that, vampire!steven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowsweetheart/pseuds/marshmallowsweetheart
Summary: A series of oneshots about the effects of drinking blood of other magical beings.





	1. Fairy Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Based on http://mysticinvestigations.com/vampire-blood-ingestion-effects.htm.

It starts out harmless enough.

“Fairy blood,” Cib says, plonking a vial of the stuff on the table in front of Steven and giving him the shit-eating grin that can only mean he’s had another bad idea.

“No,” he says automatically, and then double takes, because it smells almost sweet and glitters in the light. It’s still red like a human’s, but something about it flows with the magic enticement of the Fae. He’s drawn to it despite himself. “Where did you even get that?” he asks, starting to reach for it, and Cib pulls it away smugly.

“Demon connections, idiot,” he replies, pouring it into a wineglass. It’s simultaneously thinner and thicker than Steven expected, and he takes the glass after only a slight hesitation.

“So this is--this is magical or something,” he says tentatively, smelling it again and swishing it around. He can’t deny he’s interested, but he also doesn’t want to die or be bound to the land of the Fae or something.

“Why do you think I want you to drink it?” Cib asks, and he’s obviously done with Steven’s reluctance, because he takes the end of the glass and tilts it up. Against his better instincts, he drinks it, and it’s only because the stuff would stain if it spilled and not in any way because he’s kind of curious, too.

Nothing happens. At least, he doesn’t think anything does, because he feels the same way as always and Cib looks at least a little disappointed. He rolls his eyes, ignores the fact that he’s a little disappointed, too, and goes back to what he was doing before. Actually, he tries to, but after a few minutes he starts feeling strange, and he puts his stuff down to tell Cib so and immediately is shocked by the blue in Cib’s eyes. They’re not glowing, probably, but they may as well be, and it’s gorgeous, actually, and that’s what Steven should be telling Cib, not about whatever it was before.

He stands up to do exactly that, and then the entire world tilts a little, and then a _lot_ , but Cib is beside him and Cib is warm and Cib is strong enough to hold him upright. When he looks over, he sees the thousand-watt smile that means something good is happening, and on a whim he returns it before pressing his lips to Cib’s.

_(When he wakes up the next morning, he doesn’t remember most of the night before, and what he does is in a sort of magic haze. Cib tells him about multiple kisses, the hickey and nip marks, the fact that he could barely stand up or walk on his own, and the several occasions where he argued with himself almost to tears about whether Cib’s eyes were prettier glowing or not. Cib, obviously, finds the whole ordeal more hilarious than he knows how to explain, and right there and then Steven vows not to drink anything that Cib finds for him ever again.)_


	2. Mermaid

He breaks that vow in the next week, when Cib finds him a bottle of mermaid blood and pesters him for four days until he agrees  
  
“Cib, jesus, if I drink this will you _stop_ \--” And Cib interrupts him by shoving the bottle to his chest and smiling brightly. He sighs. “This isn’t even nutritional,” he says, unscrewing the cap and smelling it.  It’s bright blue, almost the same blue that Cib’s eyes are when they glow, and it’s very heavy for what he’d expected. There isn’t the same glitter of magic thank _God_ , but he can already tell from Cib’s expression that there’s going to be an effect, even if neither of them know exactly what it is yet.  
  
Apparently the fairy blood had sent him on some kind of kick, because Steven had had to decline both leprechaun and elf before Cib had started gunning for mermaid. With the kind of experience the fairy blood had been, he can only assume that Cib has some information feed on what exactly this will do to him, and he knows that it can only end badly for himself.

Against his better judgement, he dips his finger in and tastes a drop. It’s oddly thick, like cream, and almost sugary sweet. He waits for a few moments, eyes Cib suspiciously when he rolls his eyes and says _“well get on with it, dude”_ , and it doesn’t seem to be doing much so he tries more. He only gets a few swallows before the aftertaste hits him and he chokes, spitting what was left in his mouth back in the bottle.

“This tastes _terrible,_ ” he manages, coughing, and Cib takes the bottle and thumps his back.  
  
“Just you wait, dude,” he says, and that by itself is enough to make Steven look up in alarm, but then the magic hits him and he’s got much bigger problems.

It’s simultaneously excruciatingly long and surprisingly short. There’s a pain everywhere below his chest, and it _hurts_ , but then it’s done and he’s on the floor with something that absolutely does not feel like the normal legs that a human-turned-vampire should have.

Cib seems to snap out of whatever stupor he must have been in to gasp.  
  
“Dude,” he says, looking back and forth between Steven’s face and his.

Tail?

It is a tail, when Steven looks back, it’s bright green and scaled and what the _fuck_ is Steven supposed to do with a tail and how long--

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” he says, and hits Cib with his tail, but he’s laughing too hard to notice.


	3. Ghoul

The next thing that Cib comes up with is ghoul blood, and Steven is wary but not as much as he should be. James has come with, the first little magic adventure he’s tagged along for, and seems to be just as curious as Cib is to see what happens.

“What is it now?” He asks when Cib shoves a vial of something thick and rest colored in his hands, and almost gags when he uncorks it.

“Ghoul! So that’s kind of like a human,” James replies, sitting on a stool and waiting for Steven to taste it. He smells it again, and really it just smells like pure toxic waste and probably not the kind of shit he should be putting in his body.

“Bottoms up, I guess,” he says, and only gets about a mouthful in before he seizes up and spits it out. Whatever this is, it’s not something that he should be drinking.

“It doesn’t taste very good,” he says, the words hard to get out, and actually it tastes vile and he feels a little bit like he’s going to throw up. And then he can’t stop the vial from slipping from his fingers and shattering on the ground, and he knows that he isn’t dying because poison can’t kill a vampire but suddenly it’s very hard to move and very hard to keep his eyes open.

He must start to fall, because someone catches him, and he can’t move his arm to wrap around their shoulders and either that’s chilling or he’s very, very cold. Whoever it is lays him on the couch, and it’s not the most comfortable position but he still can’t move and that by itself is more upsetting than any of the rest.

“Dude, is he gonna be okay?” James asks, and Steven wants to reply that yeah, he’ll be fine eventually, but suddenly there’s a hand on his chest and from whatever magic it’s radiating it’s not James.

“He isn’t dying,” Cib says, and he sounds...oddly worried. “I think vamps have to be staked to die, and his soul feels fine.” Cib is coherent, and Steven’s known him long enough to know that that’s a red flag. If he could just tell them he was okay this would all be fine, but he can’t, and actually maybe that means that he’s not okay.

It must be James who sits next to him on the couch and cards his hand through Steven’s hair. He can’t deny that the feeling is nice, if in pretty terrible circumstances.

“He usually doesn’t get knocked out so fast,” James says, and it’s definitely him who’s on the couch because his voice is so close.

I’m not, Steven wants to say, but it’s impossible, and getting harder each second to focus on the conversation happening beside him.

He’s not sure how long it takes, but eventually he must fall asleep, because when he’s finally--finally--able to pull his eyes open, it’s light outside and he’s alone. His first attempt at sitting up fails, but the second is a little better, and when he pulls himself up a blanket falls off his chest. The taste is still in his mouth, with a certain grogginess like after a nap that wasn’t long enough, and his throat burns a little where the blood went down.

The stir draws James from the kitchen with maybe the most relief that Steven’s ever seen on his face before.

“Dude, you got fucked,” he says, and that’s about it, yeah.  
“Wasn’t knocked out. Just a paralytic,” he replies, the words still slurring a little.

“Oh, shit, for real?” James asks, and he nods, sitting up a little more and then letting himself back down because if the lightheadedness is anything to go by, it was more than just a paralytic.

  
He thinks for a moment before sighing.

“James?”

“Yeah, dude?”

“Remind me to stop trusting Cib.”


End file.
